I lean my head against the headboard of my bed and reach for my phone on the bedside table.
Me: Movie?
Maggie: That sounds like a date.
Me: Friends can’t see a movie together?
Maggie: They can. But I’m not sure we should.
Me: Is it because you have plans with the Mouse Man again?
Maggie: Who?
Me: You know who.
Maggie: Fine. I do know who. But I haven’t seen the “Mouse Man” again, and I never plan to. You have to know that guy is not my type.
Me: But I don’t know. Maybe if we went to the movie, you could tell me all about your type.
Maggie: You talk during movies?
Maggie: Never mind. Of course you do.
Me: I meant after the movie.
Maggie: After? See, this sounds more and more like a date. No movie, Lucca.
Me: Okay. Then dinner?
Maggie: I’m pretty sure you only know how to date. Face it, you can’t be just friends with a woman.
Me: Of course I can.
Maggie: Friends is pushing it anyway.
Me: Who was it that told me a man and a woman can be friends without more implied?
Her name flashes on my phone screen with three little thinking dots.
Me: Let me assist. It was you.
Maggie: I know that. And I believe that… for possibly all men but you.
Me: You injure me. I have plenty of female friends.
Maggie: Fine, we can be acquaintances—the kind of friends Callum and I are. People who don’t grimace every time they see one another. People who say hello. People who respect each other.
Maggie: The end.
But that’s not what I want. We’ll wave, acknowledge the other, but never speak? Is that what she’s saying? That’s pitiful.
Maggie: Goodnight, Lucca.
Me: Goodnight? It’s barely ten o’clock.
Maggie: Yes—and some of us have to get up early to go on a field trip tomorrow with their six-year-old nephew.
I’m not sure why this surprises me. It’s exactly the kind of thing Maggie McCrae would do. I peer over at the cat.Mycat. I’m not ready to let this conversation end. Somehow that gray fluff ball in the corner only draws me toMaggie more.
